The Great Game Read Online Free PDF

finger at Paul. "And you led me to believe, in oh-so-subtle ways, that you, also, have the mind of a criminal."
     
                  "A criminal?"
     
                  "I discovered that you were letting it be known among certain groups of our, ah, more adventurous citizens, that you were in actuality an agent of a British master criminal known as Professor Moriarty."
     
                  "I never made that claim," Paul protested. "Someone—I think it was a jeweler named Berkmann—made that assumption, and I admit that I did not disabuse him of the notion."
     
                  "A master jewel thief named Berkmann, yes. The professor Moriarty had provided him with assistance once or twice, and he is convinced that the professor has a vast criminal network throughout Europe."
     
                  "Well I assure you that I never heard of this Professor Moriarty until Berkmann mentioned him. But then, well, if being his agent would simplify my life, then I would become his agent."
     
                  "So again you found the truth, whatever that might be, less than useful. Is that so?"
     
                  Paul leaned back in his chair and sipped his tea. "Let us go over this in a reasonable manner," he said. "I somehow caused you to believe that I was a criminal. And now you have concluded that I'm not. And you are shocked to discover that I'm an honest man."
     
                  "I would be at least mildly surprised to discover that anyone was a completely honest man," Davoud said. "It's merely that the manner of your dishonesty eludes me at the moment." He moved his hand in a patting motion, as though he were soothing an invisible cat. "I mean nothing disrespectful."
     
                  "How do you know that I am not engaged in any of your imaginary nefarious schemes?" Paul asked.
     
                  "I keep a close eye on several of my, ah, clients," Davoud said. "With one gentleman the eye is that of his valet, and one cannot get much closer than that. Had you been so engaged, I would have heard."
     
                  "Ah!" Paul said. "Tell me, if you feared that I was some sort of master criminal, why did you supply me with the names? Surely not for the few kronen that I offered?"
     
                  Davoud shrugged. "Frankly, I was interested to discover what you planned to do. You have so far managed to scrape an acquaintance with several of the 'names,' but with little result that I can see. You spoke to Graf von Pinow at the opera bar—"
     
                  "A performance of Nabucco," Paul remembered. "With the libretto translated into German. Verdi's music should not be sung in German. It turns the most romantic of melodies into the barking of large dogs."
     
                  "And Colonel Kretl, you sat across from him at baccarat— "
     
                  " Oh, yes. At the Club Montmartre. Why the Viennese think that vice must have a French name is beyond me. German vice is perfectly acceptable. It's more orderly and well-behaved."
     
                  "So with each of these gentlemen you have a meeting, two meetings, casual—nothing of any value discussed, I believe. And then, that's it. Nothing! So of what use to you is any of this?"
     
                  Paul considered for a moment, and then he drank some tea and considered some more. "Is it of great interest to you," he asked Davoud, "what happens to your clients?"
     
                  "Pah!" Davoud grimaced. "These people, these aristocrats, these men gentled by noble birth; they would just as soon walk over you as walk around you. At least the ones that I deal with are of that sort, although I am aware that there are others—yourself, for example, if I am right about your upbringing. These young highly born gentlemen can hardly hide their dislike of me, even